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the first touch of spring we broke
camp and headed south-west across the
big bend of the upper Columbia, through the
Yellow Head Pass and on up to the high plateau
between the Rockies and the Cascade Moun-
tains* It was on this lofty plateau that the
world's largest herd of wild horses had roamed
during the last hundred and fifty years. Several
hundred head of them are still there, where every
summer efforts are being made to exterminate
them by the Provincial Government of British
Columbia. It was these horses that we were
after* to replace the herd which the storm had
driven away from our camp.

We struck the herd In the season of the year
when it was the weakest: early spring, right after
they had got their first good feed of green grass
and their speed had been slowed by dysentery.
Since these wild creatures can run to death any
horse raised in captivity, it is doubly a hard job